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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22524826">30 years later</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/novoaa1/pseuds/novoaa1'>novoaa1</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Guns, Top Natasha Romanov, just kind of a drabble, pov yelena belova, uhhh, yelena calling natasha natalia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 11:41:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>522</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22524826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/novoaa1/pseuds/novoaa1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, we gonna talk like grown-ups?” Natalia questions with a subtle quirk of her lips—she’s so <em>American</em>, now; it’s there in her languorous intonation, the use of the indubitably Western contraction “gonna” rather than “going to,” the way each half-formed syllable seems to slur lazily into the next. </p><p>“Is that what we are?” Yelena retorts without a moment’s hesitation, glaring intently down the iron two-pronged sights of her pistol. </p><p>Natalia chuckles, then, as if Yelena's just said something particularly amusing. “I would certainly hope so."</p><p>Or: Yelena and Natalia have history.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Yelena Belova/Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>30 years later</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ok honestly idk if i'm gonna write more for them ever bc like.... i wrote this right after i saw a gifset on tumblr showing like only the part where natasha's like 'are we gonna talk like grown ups' and then yelena's like 'is that what we are' but i still hadnt seen the actual trailer, and i was planning on continuing it later on</p><p>but thEN</p><p>i watched the trailer and natasha rlly calls yelena 'sis' and like that scene with melina and alexei where theyre all sittin at the table and there's massive awkward saturday night family dinner vibes?</p><p>honestly that might just make it too weird for me</p><p>i might write them in a sister dynamic later on i guess? or maybe it'll just be too weird cause i already wrote them like this? ion know</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natalia comes back on a Thursday, nearly 30 years later. </p><p> </p><p>(Yelena’s loathe to note she hasn’t aged a day—much like herself.)</p><p> </p><p>	Still, it’s not until they’re face-to-face, pistols drawn (modified Makarova gripped tightly in Yelena’s steady hands, standard Ruger P89 in Natalia’s), both their typically immaculately-patterned breaths heavy and out-of-sync from exertion—it’s not until then that it dawns upon Yelena just how much she’s missed this… how much she’s missed <em>her</em>. </p><p> </p><p>	“So, we gonna talk like grown-ups?” Natalia questions with a subtle quirk of her lips—she’s so <em>American</em>, now; it’s there in her languorous intonation, the use of the indubitably Western contraction “gonna” rather than “going to,” the way each half-formed syllable seems to slur lazily into the next. </p><p> </p><p>	“Is that what we are?” Yelena retorts without a moment’s hesitation, glaring intently down the iron two-pronged sights of her pistol. </p><p> </p><p>	Natalia chuckles, then, as if Yelena's just said something particularly amusing. “I would certainly hope so."</p><p> </p><p>	“Is this funny to you, Наталья?” Yelena snarls, irritation boiling low in her gut like acid (—the kind of irritation it seemed only <em>Natalia</em> could ever evoke so innately within her, the kind that snaked all-too-surely around her spine and sunk deep inside her very bones like it belonged there, like it always had). "Do you <em>wish</em> to be shot?”</p><p> </p><p>	“On the contrary, Ленуся,” she purrs, and the way that endearing diminutive rolls off her tongue is more than enough to have Yelena itching to pull the trigger (even as a not-so-insignificant piece of her positively revels in the mere sound of it). “I want only to talk. Like we used to.”</p><p> </p><p>	Yelena very nearly laughs out loud at that. “'Talk’? As if we ever did such a thing.”</p><p> </p><p>	“Fine,” Natalia concedes, that infuriating lopsided smirk never fading, an absolutely maddening sensuous quality to her silken tone that cuts effortlessly to Yelena’s very core like a sharpened blade. “I want to touch you again,” she says matter-of-factly, lowering her gun (along with any compulsory pretense) and looking Yelena dead in the eyes. “I want to <em>fuck</em> you again."</p><p> </p><p>	Yelena nearly chokes on the very air she breathes. “That is not funny.”</p><p> </p><p>	Natalia doesn’t waver, and, when she creeps briskly forward until the barrel of Yelena’s pistol presses firmly against her sternum, Yelena lets her. “I would certainly hope not,” she counters without the faintest hint of humor, "seeing as it’s not a joke.”</p><p> </p><p>	“Are you crazy?” Yelena hisses out next, refusing to let her hands shake even as she <em>knows</em> she’s moments from breaking, mere seconds from splintering beneath Natalia’s achingly familiar sovereignty. (And, judging by the indubitably predatory glint in Natalia’s green-eyed gaze, she knows it, too.)</p><p> </p><p>	“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t want this?” Natalia fires back, (figuratively) sidestepping Yelena’s incredulity with startling leisure. “That if I touched you right now, I wouldn’t find you wet and <em>aching</em> for me?”</p><p> </p><p>	Yelena can’t help it—she feels herself shudder at that, the barrel of her gun trembling against Natalia’s chest. “That is not fair, and you know it.”</p><p> </p><p>	Natalia’s self-assured grin only widens. “When has that ever stopped me?”</p><p> </p><p>— —</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Наталья | <em>Natal'ya</em> | Natalia<br/>Елена | <em>Yelena</em> | Yelena<br/>Ленуся | <em>Lenoosya</em> | (affectionate diminutive of Yelena)</p><p>(my <a href="https://psyches.co.vu/">tumblr</a> or just search @ultralightdumbass to talk to me there!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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